The Lone Street Lamp
by hanzohetalia
Summary: Arthur lives a hundrum life; go to work, go home, sleep, repeat. Yet, one night after work, he sets off a car alarm. That event, while he doesn't yet know it, will make his life change, even if it is in the slightest of ways. (PrUk, rating may possibly change)


**This story idea pretty much just broke itself into my mind, so I'm going with it.**

**I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers, nor any other part of the franchise. I am making absolutely no money from this.**

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><p>I let out a deep sigh, extremely relieved to finally be rid of that hellhole called "work".<p>

Yet, I'm not entirely in the clear. My door is still far away, and now I have the task of navigating a crowded apartment parking lot in the dark.

'Just make it to the door, Arthur,' I think to myself.

It takes me double the time it would normally, and my sides must be bruised by how many times I ran into a side view mirror. Why the city only has one lone street light on around here, I have no clue. No one does. Many assume it's to weed out those who can't handle a little darkness. Rolling black outs mean a lot of candles; lets just leave it at that, shall we?

Lost in my thoughts, I hit one car too hard. Shit. Sirens immediately start screeching, the car alarm alerting everyone within a mile radius. A window from the building I was trying to make my way to lights up soon followed by a slamming door. Must be the owner of the shrieking vehicle.

An obviously half asleep man with extremely light hair barges into the parking lot, wearing only a pair of sleeping pants and an exceedingly stretched out shirt. I can barely see him in the minimal lighting, but I can hear him clearly. He's letting out a stream of curses, fumbling with his car keys. When the alarm subsides, he closes his eyes, which I guess is because he managed to turn the annoying noise off.

Then his eyes open, and they are on me. I suck in a lungful of air, anticipating a barrage of insults for how I set off his car.

A heavily Germanic accented voice calls out, "Enjoy waking up people trying to sleep? Do you even know how late it is? I have to wake up at fucking 5 o'clock, and now I have to deal with a son of a bitch who sets off my car alarm!"

I cringe, expecting harsh words, but none to that extremity. I open my mouth to apologize, but of course he has more to say.

"I mean, you must have a job too, according to your attire, so you must know how it is." He lets out a sigh of, disappointment? "Look, sorry for blowing up at you, okay? Just make it to your door without hitting any more cars."

With that, he turns around and makes his way back to his still open room. I stand there, slightly shocked. Did the man who was yelling at me apologize that quickly? I try not to spend too much time dwelling on that subject, for I really do need to head to my own place.

Hurrying to my door, I pull out my keys, as quickly as humanly possible unlock it and enter. Closing the barrier behind me, I slump down, relaxing for the first time that day. My job as a realtor has me dealing with a number of eccentric characters, and today was no exception. A man named Ivan Braginsky kept asking for advances to his residence, such as an indoor sunflower greenery and a freezer to store vodka. I managed to get both cleared, which is no surprise. I am fantastic at my job, but nevertheless, it was a strange accommodation.

I get up from my increasingly uncomfortable position against the doorframe and make my way to the bathroom. After dealing with a basic nightly routine I perfected over the years, I wander over to my laptop bag, pull it out, and set it up on a free space on my table.

I go to Google, of course, and type in the name of my apartment complex. Clicking on the homepage, I scour to find a section entitled "resident listings" I know is there. Due to my drooping eyelids, I spend maybe a little too much time with my eyes closed, envisioning flying, light green colored creatures. My head hits the table, and I wake up. I shake my head, prepare a slightly caffeinated mug of tea to help to keep me from nodding off again, and return to my search.

Finally, I find what I've been looking for. I analyze the pictures, trying to find the man whose car alarm I sounded so I could formally apologize. I could barely manage any words earlier, and I have the slight inkling that I came off as rude.

The small images have me squinting into my dimmed screen, trying to find just whom I had the encounter with. After quite an amount of time inspecting each of the male profiles, I come across the best match.

His name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, he's 29, has been living here for 5 years after moving from somewhere. Germany, I infer. I still am not sure if it's truly him. The picture depicts a man with angular facial features, what I make out to be light grey hair and red eyes. Wait, red eyes? They must be contacts! He obviously isn't albino, so what could the cause be?

While musing over the reason for Gilbert's uncanny eye color, I make my way to my bedroom. I check my alarms to the door, windows, and my clock of course. I do not enjoy being late. I rummage through my belongings, retracting my phone, which I place on my bedside table. You never know when an important call will come in.

I grab a remote, turning on my stereo. Led Zeppelin begins to sound from the speakers, calming me. What can I say, it reminds me of my youth. My parents would always have them running in the car, so I've grown accustomed to the songs. Well, they are amazing.

I set my stereo to play for a limited amount of time, and I turn the volume down low. People who can sleep in dead silence are not to be trusted. Once I have everything set up, I get under my sheets, and let out another breath before my head hits the pillow and exhaustion takes over.


End file.
